I made room
I made time
In an effort for connection

I make reason
You make rhyme
I make nothing but exceptions

We made a fool out of me
A hero out of you
You're nothing but perfection

I make excuses
We make lies
It's nothing but deception
And we are sinking
                        sinking...

Through pit and prosperity,
All is well.

Do you come here to love me?
All of me and that which consumes me?
To embrace both darkness and light?
I attribute it all to some horrific cosmic disservice…
Surely the only reason to warrant it.
For it is not enough that my heart aches,
And my body riddled by anguish each day.
Emotional dissent called debt by my creditor,
I am compelled to pay.
Truthfully I would tell you to run,
For such is the heartache that dwells within me.

In quantity you were short-lived in my life, though quality wise as grand as any person could ever hope for.

I enjoyed each moment of your laughter, the command of your beauty, and the reach of your personality that taught me to want more for myself.

I hope the world lives up to your every expectation.

I try to untangle the parts of me that once cared

The remaining fragments like crumbs
Like drops of dew resting after the morning rain
The last beam of light as the setting sun flees.

Sometimes painful but seldom peaceful

I adore broken things.
Because even roses come to be without thorns,
if not to be just as beautiful
to smell just as sweet.

Hearts chained to glory,
Gladiators and their stories.
Am I bad person?
It depends on who you ask.